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Poetry - Song Lyrics PDF files (under-construction):

 

Here are some train of thought writings:

The most important moment in the world just happened
Though we can always go back
Because we are knocking on the door of the present with every glance outside
The watch on the wrist, the drain in the alley
they sift elements of time into directions for the eye
and flow off into their lonely occupations
stepping off the end the end of the diving board
waiting in eternity for the paintbrush to hit the canvas
Journalists for unread newspapers
recycled in the dumpsters of the library of the forgotten tombs
tipping over chess pieces mid game
losing track of the hue of the black and white squares
that decline into the sunset horizon
my reclining chair falling back and back
into dark velvet black hole blueness and cold
landing splat on a damp mattress and cloudy pillow


Sitting on a bus driving along the dusty moon
White milk in a jar pouring dust on a star
Looking through spectacles at the spectacle
Hanging on the wall
A picture of Greyhound bus in the station
Ticket takers and heavy packs on tired hikers
Folded pages for bookmarks on half read novels
Poems and jokes make up the bulk of the tired words
They joke about the forgotten science of fishermen
Speculating by the side of swollen rivers
Forty pound salmon flipping through the waves
Aiming upstream to sacred spawning ground
Laughing at the punch line while turning from silver to red
Bloodshot eyes of the driver hunched over the wheel
While turning back on to the interstate
Leading Eastward to the dark side
Eastward towards the rising sun
Eastward towards awakening
Waking up in my old room with sun through the windows
Broken guitars in the closet, boom box on the desk
Piles of clothes and old postcards
And the family has gone and scattered by now
Like a broken chessboard pieces scattered and lost
Queens and rooks hidden in the shadows
Kings hitchhiking off to another scene
Bishops taking two steps ahead and one to the left
Tripping over robes on the floor of the church
Stumbling, looking for the light switch, holding a bible
Now I clutch my guitar and pick a chord
Scratching a G to a C like holding a fishing pole
Rocky shored creek, Whistling wind
Slippery sloped sleepy creek flowing cold


Apologies to the wind for not singing
when it blows my mind directionless
Apologies to the night for not noticing
me sleeping lost in a dream
Heavy head on stone pillow in a cave of sheets
heavy eyes falling in to dark soup
Fumbling fingers feeling featherbeds floating
Mumbling lips licking the soup from the bowl
lapping waves of lost deep lake
reaching roots of breathing trees
sighing stars above sandy feet
footsteps aiming for distant hills
horizon fading in to darkness of spiral haze
drums beating along mountainside hideouts
lights flicker secrets in the night
sparks float heavenward in to arms of pine
shoes shredding on hard stone floor
bare skin touching leaves and vines
clothing ripping and snagging in the trees
I feel the lips of the wind on my skin again


I predict that sometimes you can predict things and that sometimes you can't, and that sometimes things are as they are all of the time, that we are always trying to catch up to now, and that now goes on and on forever, that eyes are made for seeing and that sight is limited to the rest of our senses, that perfection is an immacculate accident, that heaven is niether up nor down, that infinity can be encapsulated in a finite space, that directions are signposts for somewhere we already are, that leaving comes before arriving, that arriving is constant, that words are sybols for more complex enteties, that complexity is simpler than it seems, that circles are not round and that squares have no angles if they contain things, that emptiness is always full of stuff, that contradictions are boundaries between similarities, that suffering is awakening, that awakening is the beginnig of awareness of both that which is and that which isn't, that all good things come on the crest of a wave of desire, that to desire is to suffer, that to suffer is to live, to live is to die, that death is not finality, that round things roll, that light things float, that heavy things attract the ground, that pens write, that thoughts happen...


Listening to the music without really hearing it
walking down a path without seeing its blossoms
thinking of what I need to acccomplish without compitence
in phase and out of phase like a wave of attention
that's smashing on the shore fresh in from the sea
salty and full of life, acceptant and patient,
the breeze blowing the birds,
the birds painting the sky,
art surrounds the senses,
and always will be even if the eye isn't looking for it,
even if the ears are deaf to a roar,
even if our fingers can't reach out and touch,
it is inevitable that creation will abound,
even if writers can't put their thumbs on it,
the poets will spit it from their mouths,
watery with the built up angst of it all,
So don't be depressed if it isn't happening now for you,
you've just become the sight for the audience,
they are encompassed in their own awe,
you are your own imputation,
the song had to be heard to begin with,
and it can mean many things dependant on the attention in your moment


Patience is waiting
it has been all along
from the start
just waiting for the leaves to blow
waiting for a chance to explain something new
to anyone who will hear
it doesn't care
it feeds on anticipation
annoys anyone who doesn't possess it
it isn't even stopping when tiredness retires us into dreams
in fact dreams possess it
and crest and crash on the shores of thought
the sand on the ocean and the breeze
all act in accordance to the passing of time and energy
in a way that patience understands


Think big, 'cause if you're not big... mothing small will fall, Start small 'cause if not start you're nowhere at all, Fall to the sky and fly to solid ground, If you don't lose, you'll never have found, lose what you want and find all that's kind, you'll end up finding the neccessary state of mind, disreguard and reguard...


When my eyes paint out the space before me
So I can see where I plan to step
Sun reflects off of every surface
illuminating thoughs and minds
leaves bud on new branches
stretching, reaching all in new directions
like signposts to our expectations
and our dreams are leaves
budding, growning, falling
all in good time
so let things happen and wait a long time
a long time is like a long branch
strong and with direction


Perfection is the inability to be perfect
without knowing what the mind is really thinking
those who are confused become the leaders
pointing their fingers to where they've never been
guiding those who can see... towards the darkness
tripping over the obvious, feeling emptiness
the sincere seeker is really just bored
he's heard it all before and can't find the rhymes
the books he's read are all by the same author
and the author is long dead
he's so old and can't find his car keys


Fractal remnants of artificial life
scattered like trash and broken glass
livid eyes of birds scan for crumbs of sustinence
while hunger is a force as great as gravity
directing wings through the air


Stone pillow
rainwater thirst
bowing cedar tree
steps through the carpet bark floor
damp bare feet feel the vegitation in a midnight run
white moon
splashing waves where the wanderer jumps in
swimming deep under the dark
deeper past the living room of the salmon
sturdy tree braches where we climb
up into the confused canopy
branches
fractal branches grow exponential
fractal roots growing and mingling with the dirt and stone floor
along the path
a photograph on the ground
of the ground
is damp and decaying
but its image is not so distorted
the developed product of the chemicals in the film
polute the barrels of toxic waste
that leek into the mouth
of the thirsty planet


The shpere of the Earth
the heart of a raindrop
moving with gravity from the lightness of the cloud
with a splatter on the ground
like a particle splattering on a minute piece of itself
and gravity crumpled like a piece of paper
to be diguarded in the trash can
a love letter that wasn't perfect to the author
and the lover could care less


inner rivers flow
planets sprout and grow
we don't have to know
where it all goes

if the rain turned to snow
on this day I'll go
out to take a stroll
in the white until night
all along the winding road

the winter will smile cold
with frosty brow
clouds drop soft like blankets
making the bed for the ground

and all the plants underneath
safe in the sea of earth
rocks, the stewards of the soil
ice and water pierce the crust


Diamonds glint and the eye catches the light
soft and piercing like a star in the night
your jewelry gold and silver flash
wallets and wristwatch and fist full of cash
dance down a road of decadence
or sit high upon the top of a wide fence
looking out over the sprawl
laughing at the face of a tired shopping mall


flash, swirl, decline
hatch, sketch, underline
color, apply, emulsify
lamintate, aggregate
polish, buff, and shine
dust, wipe, spline
tentacle wood branches reach
spider feet attatch to the beach
footprint grains of blowing breath
underneath the rain and dry
woodsmoke smell of sweet food
canopy of green leaves and flowers
dreaming of a summer night
with stars above the sandy stretch
water embraces the floor
melt away the permeable pourous grains


River of electronics wire and chips carving canyons of informative purposeful complex flashes and beams. Remote control triggers thunderous sensational pixelated renderings of programs uninstalling the spaces the space they don't occupy. Wires of all colors watefall down the streams on circuit boards laden with transistors and chips. Technology is spawning in the streams. Fishermen cast for devices. Magnetic fish hooks glam onto media of all types and dimension... until the off switch engages and blackness takes over and the organic rises again.


We became so intelligent that we lost all wisdom. The newest software won't protect us from the cold winter wind. Wires frey and bend... Electricity flows like a flash in the matrix of transistors that crumble like rocks when the computer is thrown out the window and smashes into pieces on the concrete. Even diamonds shatter like glass shards of mirror pieces and transmit light through the muddy path of our feet. How smart do we have to be to just upgrade to the newest operating system patch in order to keep order out of the chaos which is order. Not that I want to smash beautiful machines, but to see them for what they are and do.


How do I write something that would melt into the cracks of the woodwork without impending significance for the moment's lull. A broken window with a dusty rosebud peaking through... Like an old friend who had lost your number or even your last name. Petals that have already blown away revealing the rosy heart. Wanting to reach through and grab on without the sharp glass edge or the thorns. But glass is sand and thorns just plant. It can all be blown away when the wind is ripe with change. Cataclysms and cataconbs trying to find the way back to the way things were when we were all just there for the first time. Memories of then like the architectural structures of a grand schoolhouse conservatory. Foot for foot and inch for inch finding the locations of the doors and where the light switches are... The goal of feeling fingers to lighten the room... And when they find the mark, the switch is flipped and a flash of light awakens us from our dream... only to awaken us to another where we shake hands with the architect smilling as hands shake. We discuss where we plan to travel next and to how the sun shines there, and what waters we'll be able to swim in.


Infinty means something without a beginning or an end. Is my life like that? Did it evolve with this fading consciousness from the building blocks of the dusting light of a comet to the complexity of a nano tech computer engineer in the evolutionary flash of a second where light years are like seconds in the life of a redwood planted on a mountain on a young planet? A fragment of an endless fractal... a leaf on a tree... a color in a rainbow.. just waves in an ocean small pond... a breath in a raindrop... a fish breathing sky... a lung feeding night... eyes eating the scenery of a photograph... ink from a paintbrush... drumsticks from tree branches beating smoke signals... ears hearing fingers touching in a chimney... grey clouds clearing the blueness of the afternoon sky... airplanes flying accross fields where farmers grow farmers... screatching wheel on hiway rivers flowing the blood of the land... lapping on the shores of a lake in the high hills of a day hike... feet wander on walking past the accomplishment of years... books read, books written... song performed, stories forgotten... memory of a wind that bends branches of time hands grasping for inspiration, creativity... collecting like pebbles washed by tides, shinning on shores, pages to novels that are tactile like sand...


Rocketship ambitions. waiting to blast off but the spaceman ain't ready. Twiddling thumbs over the ignition switch with a steady head but hands that twitch. Soon the atmosphere will be below the glow of the heat. Incredible speed and G-force and rememberances of childhood sitting before the picknick in the backyard chasing some dream. And soon the guests will be arriving with the baloons and the frosted cake. and the sun will shine. And the leaves will dance... grass stains on the jeans, a football flying past in a fury of neighborhood friends using up the rest of the long afternoon.


 

Get those expectations past me, until I expect they won't come again... but they do... I just expect them not to bother me too much until my mind settles back into its sea... with waves on the top and calm down below. A fish swimming through hungry and tired. The darkness below and many dark things swimming past. The clouds above the ocean disperse and the sun sparkles on the tips of the waves. A fisherman in his boat with pole in hand waiting for a bite... waiting in serenity while reading a book. And then a bite and the world turned upsidedown gasping for water in the breath of air... then compassionately thrown back into the water of home. Matter after wave of matter and time has its own wave. Wind breaks down... second by second the clocks tick until time braks down itself into whatever comes next... like breath disolving into the lungs of a higher being. But who cares about who is higher or lower... right or left... before or after... seen or unseen... just blazing past like a meteor hitting the atmosphere... a piece of spiritual comet that shows itself every three hundred years... like the blink of a tearing eye behind sunglasses... A monk arises from meditation with a smile just remembering the punchline to an old joke that explains the moment's reality in a comfortable and subtle expressiveness. A comedian with a sacred mantra that is spoken so wisely... laughter as bright as a sun ray hitting the top of a flowing wave that has never even known significance.


Breaking branches off the lightning tree
And scattering away through the catacombs
A path that leads me from the back of my brain
Down a widenning road to the sea
Lovely lost footsteps diverge like thoughts
Shooting blindly like arrows dance in the air
Snagging matter in flight and fall
Onto mossy ground among myrtered leaves
Where brick and mortar crumble away along
The side of the wall too high to climb
My tiredness disolves in to sparkling energy
Lighting the damp road to the shore
A ship of wood awaits in the black shawls of night
The voyage back to daylight and sleep.

Sometimes I can play
Sometimes I can't
Sometimes I'm a whale
Sometimes I'm an ant
Sometimes I'm a lost case looking for my home
Sometimes lost in thought on the other end of a telephone
Sometimes the sky is blue
Sometimes it ain't
Sometimes I'm looking for my brush
Sometimes for my paint
Sometimes I'm an elephant stuck in a small room
Sometimes I'm dirt on a floor being swept under the rug by a broom
Sometimes I'm vivatious
Sometimes I feel quite dead
Sometimes an unread book
Sometimes I've been read
Sometimes you're looking for me
Sometimes I'm looking for you
Sometimes I'm taking off my coat
Sometimes I'm putting on my shoes
Sometimes the world don't make sense
Sometimes It's perfectly clear
Sometimes I understand the sounds that are flowing into my ear
Sometimes I need to stop, and...
Sometimes I need to start
Sometimes it's all trash, and...
Othertimes it's art


You can stay tethered to the ground, while you're reaching to the sky. It's not complicated... You don't even have to try. The stairway to heaven is already in your soul. When you pass over that bridge, you don't pay any toll. The life we've learned is only half the ride. The rest of it is waiting inside. The butterfly of happiness makes it down to your shoulder. We're not getting younger, but older and older. The equations we ponder; weighing this over that, is like trading a smile for the tip of your hat. Wisdom accumulates in the weight of your mind. It glimmers like gold. It's eyesight for the blind. Stumbling unsure down a brand new trail. You're right as rain, though your feet may be frail. Lean back on the tree that grows deep in the soil... and reaches up to the sky, though its branches may toil. The patterns of life remain mystery... forever afloat on the endless sea.


Impenetrable fortresses exist only in the mind, for a single thought could smash it to pieces, entering all its locks and caverns in an instant, splintering all its walls into unrecognizable matter. But the mind's attention is another story. It shifts endlessly into new forms, an ever instructional unbroken code holding a message of perfect truth, never decieving even itself, merging into everything, endlessly reborn, infinite yet tangible in simplicity, no words need to describe it... because it creates the words before they come into existence, understands sounds before ears develop, creates all the instruments and writes all the music... never ending symphonies in the flash of an instant, it is so small, no one can ever find it, so big, no one can concieve of it.


Dangerously trying to understand that this world is bigger than me but I’m at the wheel
And trying, at the same time, to articulate cleverly just how I feel
I’m pulling G’s in my mind lying in bed
While everything I think is all in my head
Pulling off the highway in to a new countryside
Naked and in the open but still trying to hide
So I open a book and get lost in the words
And all preconceptions fly away like birds
The words paint a story as old as the rocks
It opens my windows, unlocks all my locks
Flowing down from the mountains in a river of thought
Running away from myself, trying not to get caught
I end up in an open field, surrounded by trees
I open my heart and fall to my knees
I pick up a guitar that’s handed to me
And try to sing out all that I see
With the river’s rock and the beat of the wind
I roll out some notes and think of all the places I’ve been
And end my song with the pluck of a string
That vibrates forever in a perpetual ring


Don't go and tattoo your name on your soul
Cause' everything washes away in its end
Everything gets washed in that stream
And flows downwards to the sea
Mirrors end up smashing to pieces
Wearing down to grains of sand
emotions of the present change color
and repeat themselves in time
messy mistakes have no judges to pass sentence
everyone goes through tripping and falling
everyone experiences everything every moment
everyone forgets what they see NOW
And NOW is just a one dimensional name
For what just happened according to the witness
Of what will come


A copied picture of the Buddha
A mold of his form making money for the vendors
What does his form mean to the passer by?
Is his form on sale?
Is he affordable?
Or is it a symbol of a well known dude sitting in silence?
Plastic, stone, or bone, or metal
With the same brow the same stare
The same bowl in his hands
Offering his memory, his story
Possibly his words
Volumes penned from his silence
His lack of words
Just curves in a statue of a man
Buddha for sale, a bargain for the bodhisattva
A hard buy for the critic


My thoughts ran away so I tried running after them
Trying to catch them in a butterfly net
To pin them down and document them
To use them in experiments, to test their power
To try to forget them after they die
If I didn't go running after them in the first place
If instead they ran looking for me
And I was hiding away in a cave
Telling them I can only take so much
Like taming a crowd of onlookers
Eyes pierced on a subject, drifting off into songs
Singing the essence of the moment
Without regard for the reason or effect
Books can be written from jotting on the wall
Or from the paintings in a cave
So if you are a high paid author
Or a finger painter
Learn to take a breath


Zooming in on a Mandelbrot
Gradient branches bending
Fingers of light as you go in and in
Nesting in the nooks and crannies of other crannies
Colors cycle in spectrums like the changing emotions of a poet
Valleys open to seas that become mere ponds to other seas
These oceans have calm waters and typhoons like all
They have chaotic islands and continents
And some are much smaller than a speck of dust in an open room
Windows open with turbulent breezes
The depth of zoom is infinite, it's not going anywhere
Just like a computer plotting geometry


It is awesome
The ammount that escapes me every second in the now
Must let go and hold on to predictions
Not create anxiety about what is supposed to be
Flowing down a new stream unto the source water
only to be deposited back into the clouds and sky
flowing through the ditches into glorious fountains
Being warmed in the bright sunlight
disolving and evolving
focusing and surrendering
living and maturing
leaving behind all that could be
in order to keep all that is


Disguarded dollar bill in the ditch
flows through hands of beggars
like warm coffee in the afternoon
untied shoelaces trip the stumbler
lifeboats are full of thrill seeking tourists
sidewalks leave behind footprints in the shadows


Explanations of hardship
Silver linings and hope woven into the same fabric
randomness at every corner
a license to drive but no new roads to travel on
lets take a drive down memory lane
leave behind our plans for tommorow
take a few u turns and get some gas
spend money on nothing important
because all we need is something that insn't particular
and something destined to slip through fingers
that will blow away with the wind
then we'll high step it back home
let out a moan and fall into dreams


If I had a boat to row your way
could I make it over the waves
could I see that far through the dark
or be right there in your heart
would I wash upon the shore
of an island I've never been to
or would I race down a fast river
waking up from dream before the sea
and find you starring right at me
would endless travel make me weary
make me want to retire
before even starting to find a home
will storm winds ravage my sight
could the rain drown me mid flight
without breath under the waves
dying for living a journey
that I may never understand
and my heavy feet lead me to the road
sidewalks and streets with curbs
buses and museums and traffic lights
blinding my memory of now
and leading me to yesturday
before even finding tommorow
reading endless words about nothing
and holding onto books
throwing away the shelves
growing new arms like new branches
hands reaching but never grasping
to hold their real nature
a casm between reality and more reality
music and sound are no more seperate
wind in the same dimension as rain
falling onto gravity and pouring into cups
drinking my thirst away into dream


Love this space directly and with open eyes see the path before you
Pick up the litter of the untrained mind of yesturday's delusions
wander forth in the bliss of hope, never stoop to what you don't want for yourself
live in the moment for the time being as it whirls by like an airplane
En route to a new vacation destination in the tropics
climb mountains of new ideas
hope for what you aspire to
buy new shoes for the trip and get good use from them
lay down on the ground
trying to hear it's quiet sound
deafening my ears
crying all my tears through all my years
giving away all that I once found
the color of an endless sky fades
growing old like a sunset for stormy days
freely gifting me memories and dreams
all isn't as it seems
but even dreams remember such days
twisted roots of my tree reach down
into the hollow years of the ground
grabbing onto the past and growing up all around
my hands touch your branches
and hear your constant sound


I'm just looking for something
That's where all my time goes
It's nothing in particular
Don't even know what it is or if I'll find it
What it does for me heaven knows
I'm driving down alleys and streets
Looking for a store or something
Where I can refine the search


Poison televisions sprouting like
pictures on the gallery walls
brushstrokes of commercial filth
texturing the walls of the alleyways
sound static and plastic tunes
billboard of trash in the living room
the blossoms of this realm fall on
the floors of the stores in the mall
drugs and jails await the numb
commercial influence of the antithesis
of freedom in today's confused face
streams of soda pop rivers of slime
candy wrappers litter the
sidewalk of the avenue
waterfalls of waste
The exhaust of burned gasoline
cloggs the air wilting
fields of trying flowers... trying
to pop up between the cracks that
consumption can't see through...


Life is that wich happens
between, in back of, or surrounding
delusions of the moment
waves that crest above
mountain peaks
seeping water into the desert
making snow in the hills
waiting and flowing without effort
into rivers spreading like
the branches on infinite trees
reaching in all directions forward
a snapshot of this chaos
a drop of water on the car windshield
smashed and spread by the wiper
moving in rythm to a thousand clocks
beating away the time
hurricanes cannot stop


It's a fun little room
Buddahs the size of galaxies
and blatent trivialities
lamplights and speakers blaring
tunes that are ten years old
out the windows a rain cloud
covering up the moonlight
making the tired night matter
and bad thoughts they scatter
out to the damp concrete street
smokers smoking by the store's back door
counting the money and the hours on the floor
my skin cuts a knife in two
while repelling the cold breeze inside
the lies left in the alley are truth
a red light above the intersection
stays red until waiting has left itself behind


Turning green is melting the present into itself
the present that holds the future in its hand
and that hand grasps into a clutching wave
that greets the passers by on the street
Just one more time, one more time,
and one more time to think, one
more breath and I realize the meditation
that I am inside of, that I have been
contributing to, borrowing from, forgetting
until now, remenissing about...
like the many times my foot came off
the brake pedal at the sight of the green orb,
an orb that I came to understand will
change to yellow and to red like the setting
of the sun or the hands on the grandfather clock,
my laptop's memory falls into a dream
about files on a foriegn hard drive separated
by the usb cord in the drawer
the one under the hardly used zip drive that got
as much use as a record that sits in a bin
at the thrift store down the street, or the
soda pop that was supposed to quench my thirst
as well as water should
but instead contributed
to the obesity in a child craving a big mac
shake and fries when the magic yellow
'M' on the street presents itself out of the blue
like the bills in a ceo's wallet don't
feel so lonely anymore and the belly of
a starving child across the globe does what is natural
when presented with nothin just one more time...
and the only bullets in my gun to fight injustice
are words found in the songs I choose to sing
when I realize I heard all the music
I needed to hear enough just to be Here
again, that I read enough of the news to
form an opinion, an opinion like that of a
juror in a random court case, in a nation
of laws, laws that are not even followed
by its corrupt leaders leading us into
obesity, insanity, brainwashed acceptance
that money and power are the commodity
to get us there, and that 'There' is the
"Only" place we need to "BE"
Lets us now all forget... again...


Running into a wall I built with my own hands
Worked my finger to the bone turning stone into sand
standing on a precipice leaning over the edge
catching myself by the skin of my teeth
and counting my lucky stars
The life all out of me, I sneak back into my boots
And wander off along the edge and dream
The wall grows higher each day and I never built a door
I never saw the need to go to the other side
So now I just stand along the top and weep
My tears turn into rain and I finnally get some sleep
The dream gives me eyes to see a man who cannot see
A man who couldn't dream if he had sight
He's writing a book he hopes to one day read
If the stores will one day sell it
The story begins evolving from someone his mother sees
A man who catches her eye and leaves for good
And never graces her sight again... but stays in memory
One day she remembers the sight of him in dream
And she awakes with clarity and records the dream
In writing
Years later this woman's son comes accross the document
He reads about the man in her dreams
He tries to picture him from what she wrote
He writes his own story with this man the main character


Planning for Summer
with snow blowing on my face
Spring is still a dream
but I'll still be in this place
We can plan for a Sunday
But it will still be a day
With Monday following after
The repedity brings tears
and sometimes laughter
Winding down the same roads
On the way back home
With so many tunes in my ears
A life with so many years
But it will come to pass
Broken down with nowhere to go
Execpt bound for the next life
In all its perfect plastic randomness

Some Song Lyrics (In Progress)

There's Nothing New to Win

The tiger's out of the cage
The vultures are on the wing
The river's overflowing
The castle has lost the king
The queen is inside crying
The beggar is on bended knees
No more money in the bank
No more leaves on the trees
The sky scrapers are getting scraped
By clawing hands against the stone
The prison gates have just been openned
Everyone is on their own
The lawyers and judges laugh
And shout goodbye to the laws
The alligator in the stream
Is openning up his jaws
The birds have all flown South
Winter is breathing in
The cold breath of sorrow
There's nothing new to win


Got a dusty old crystal
But she shines through like light
Got an old guitar
That plays on in the night

Got an eye out my window
Looking at the street below
The streetlights and the dance hall
Got nowhere I need to go

The fever comes and goes
And the time that passes heals all
Patience in the evening
Waiting for your call

And the night comes on softly
Leaving nothing behind
But the light from my candle
And the thought in my mind


Up Around the Bend

Up around the bend's a place where
time stands still and
all things come into view

Up around the bend's a space where
you can look at me
and I at you

up around the bend is the wisdom
of how we are and where we need to be

up around the bend is a river
leading to the sea

And it's a long time flowin
a long time growin

Reading the tea at the bottom of the cup
it's twisting us back to
where we need to be when we're looking up

The sky isn't so high... the ground to low to kick back
And relate to what's rolling down the track


Everybody's looking around trying to find something to do until that something smaks them in the face...

Now don't you get distracted by all the funny things you could be doing, as if it really matters anyway.

Now and then you have to run out in the cold and find your way through all the shit you encounter in your day.

And then you come back home... wishing someone was there with you to hear about all the things you have to say.

And it's all an illusion.
Nothing more, nothing less.
And it's all so confusing.
Just when you're trying to do your best.

So if you're out there in the midst of it, driving though dark clouds and rain, wishing you'd rather be in bed...

Hold on for a little while... another block, another mile, happiness will be knocking at your head.

And it's all an illusion.
Nothing more, Nothing Less.
And all your dillusions...
Will drown in happiness.


Back alleys of main street.
Broken glass and bare feet.
Crying eyes that call out for mercy.

Big man in a big room.
Sweeping the floor with a big broom.
And all the dirt ends up under the rug.

Bank accounts and credit cards.
Hotel rooms and fancy cars.
Driving off to some meeting with a superstar.

Policeman on the corner.
Looking down on a poor kid.
Who's hiding under his coat a bottle.

The trash can is overflowing.
A cold wind starts blowing.
Some of these kids don't know where they'll sleep tonight.

And everyday it's been this way.
Someone else has had to pay.
For someone else's ignorance and stupidity.

For most of us life goes on.
But for some, what's gone is gone.
A dream up in smoke like trash in the gutter.

But down on this dirty street.
Cracks grow beneath our feet.
Seeds sprouting to our passing.



Floating on a Cloud

Stuck floating on a cloud. I'm looking up and looking down.
The rain is falling under my feet. My head is burning in the heat.

One of these days I'm gonna fall through and have to use my parachute. It's a one way magic carpet ride, when the wind is blowing on my side.

I left the ground a few days ago. Got tired of waiting for the flowers to grow. Laying on my back looking up at the sky. The world below is passing me by.

And I'm wearing my travelling shoes... Having fun while singing the blues. It's a rainny day but I don't care, cause I'm floating up in the air.

And you don't need to be worried about me. Aint' gonna' end up lost in the sea. Got my mind. And it's working fine. And I don't think that I'm wasting my time.

And you don't need to be worried about me. Aint' gonna' end up lost in the sea. Up here I'll be cozy and warm. Even durring a thunder storm.


Stone Heart

If I waited for you,
Would it be worth my time?
And if you never came,
Tell me what I should do?

Thoughts like these make me scared.
Thoughts like these make me tired.
Feel like running away,
But with nowhere to go.

My heart is strong as a stone.
My patience fragile as glass.
Wishing you would come home.
So thsese feelings can pass.

Loving isn't really easy,
But it can be the easiest thing there is.
Giving everything you have away.
And finding you've got even more to give.

I'm flying up to the moon.
Swimming accross the sea.
It will take a long time.
And maybe you'll be with me.

I live inside my shell.
Gonna' be hard to break free.
My heart's the rock in your hand.
I'm learning to let things be.


Winter Won't make it before the Spring

Don't need to put my warm coat on.
No snow has fallen on the lawn.
No ice, no frost, no bitting wind.
No need to turn the heat up when I'm in.
I look outside and no one thing...
Winter ain't gonna' make it before the Spring.

Maybe in the mountains there's still some snow...
So I can have a place to go.
Cause down here I feel too warm.
A hot shower in a thunder storm.
Who knows what summer will bring.
Winter won't make it before the Spring.

Could be the dawn of climate change.
The world outside will be getting strange.
Rising seas and hurricanes.
Refugees stranded in the rain.
Or just El Nino's passing fling.
Winter won't make it before the Spring.

It's still bitter cold on the Eastern side.
They're huddled in with snow outside.
A normal Winter for the rest of you...
But here it's wet and balmy too.
The weather's such an unpredictable thing.
Winter ain't gonna make it before the Spring.


Get Off this Train

Get off this train, hop in this car.
Been a long slow ride, you've travelled far.
Going to get you home and in to bed.
And in the morning, get you fed.

Don't rack your braing and think too hard
Rest under the tree in my backyard.
Bad time will come, but they will go.
Summer sun and Winter snow.

Tell me all about it when you wake up.
I'll try to listen and fill your cup.
Don't think that I think you're a bore.
For all the things you do... I love you more.

It was a North bound special that brought you home.
Don't even know about from where you've just come.
Maybe through the mountains and through the sun.
I also expect you had some fun.

Let me help you with your things.
Your magazines and your diamond rings.
Your pictures of the places you passed by...
And the bautiful people who made you cry.

Now it's dark, you should be tired.
Fall asleep and wake inspired.
Maybe tommorrow more of the same...
Laugh at the stress, smile at the pain.


World of pain and I'm crying...
Cause the poor keep dying,
And the rich aren't even trying,
Since the money flows in.

Sickness caused just for profit.
We're mostly too blind to see it.
But inside we must feel it.
Till we can no longer hold on.

Lives in the balance
On the same street I walk down.
The sickness is spreading...
Like flames in the wind.

If wisdom could help us.
And drown out the flames.
Just douce all the fires.
So to live another day.